


dying rocks

by agntwsh



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Additional tags will be added, M/M, Multi, Other, caboose is clairvoyant and thats the whole plot thanks, in the first chap, mentions of salem burnings, this is all for nick and pure impulse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-17 15:56:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16098926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agntwsh/pseuds/agntwsh
Summary: "the good Samaritan would not be remembered if his intentions were purely good." or that's what they say at least.[alt. caboose still dreams in a world with church and locus is trying to enter orbit]





	dying rocks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nick/gifts).



> alt. words - remember, elapse, conspiracy, infinite.  
> [ my tumblr is minimullet-rhys !]

After years of breathing in star dust you'd think he would be tired. That all the dust would form clots in the lungs and he would need a transplant, or at least a break. Yet here he has stayed, head buried in wondering space while unaware he's living on a dying rock.

Caboose was many things, Simmons once described him as a starseed. A term to describe a human being who believes they originated as extraterrestrial life from other planets, arriving to earth through birth or as a walk-in to an existing human body.

Caboose never said if he was right, for he was in a way. He never felt "in world" no matter on which. He felt like it was a game of tag and he couldn't catch up, he didn't belong here. He never really belonged anywhere. Sarge and Doyle belonged, Caboose could explain. How their presence was always warm together, how it was like that each life. They were warm like Carolina meeting Kimball. Like the lieutenants when they were all together. They belonged, and they belonged every where. 

Church never belonged, and he was more of a starseed than Caboose would dream of if he understood the term. Church was alienated before memory of when he was. Every time he came back, in wisps of life on a candle's last breath or on the winter crisp, he was less complete than he first believed. The universe was unraveling his story, each entanglement with previous lovers or friends burned the wax more. Church developed a complex from it, believing he was different because he was important. He was. He had been. Church had been gunned down, in a coma, killed even by Caboose's shaking hands that were still painted red in times where his head wasn't all there. Church was important yet no longer belonged. It wasn't his time yet. Caboose knew that, he felt it as a harsh breeze every time Church went vermilion. He was mostly blue, faded yet with a heavy glow but this color was harsh and sharp.

Caboose remembers many things, once someone told him he had the eyes of God as a prophet. They were right yet to be a prophet he had to learn what he saw, what everything meant. To learn, he had to remember. He remembered first flowers, millions glowing with dew on white petals that looked like separate moons on their own stems planted into a vase. They were cold.

He remembered Salem, in the center of the universe. It was dull yet peaceful, other than the Mondays. On those days it burned. It burned with smell. With terror, with pleasure. On Tuesdays he remembered whisks of cinnamon, warm on a pleasing smell yet only there so the nose would ignore the lingering smell of burnt flesh. He remembered Julius Caesar. He memorized the sips leading to immortality, the chug to flush it all away, the hundreds of stabs and slashes. He knew the whole scene like a painting on the ceiling, red leaking from the tiles above. Each drop of blood sculpting pasts that were forgotten futures.

Church learned many things, he learned that Caboose was different. But not like how himself was. He measured Caboose's ability to his own gain, not going beyond the point to learn. It hurt his head, and he couldn't figure out why. He knew Caboose didn't belong on their shared rock, he didn't breathe at the same altitude. One set of years he knew because he ran faster than Tucker, Tucker who complained about the dry heavy air. Caboose who said it was light and soft. Church who thought it stung through his armor. He could be mediocre yet disappointed, able to level with Shelia on each reset but not to the degree above water's boiling point. Church learned. Church learned Caboose, their yet no one's Caboose, was an enigma.

Caboose was a supernova, a star as bright and brighter than the one acting as their sun. And even the stars chose to die over living in the end.

Locus was the seven hours of light the Earth still would have after the sun died. His demeanor cold, recently empty with the feeling of soft gray and dented steel. Locus knew and learned with every star dragging others into constellations with it. His memory running with each stream of trickling water. His imagination yet to keep up to such a pace. Everything was bland, monochromatic. But seeing a man nothing yet every thing like him, bursting brights was image catching up. Blues with a foreground of reds and yellows and pinks, straining the eye yet with perfect harmony. It was like a peacock, tail feathers heavy in detail to attract a female companion. It was the visual sound of a pan-flute played before a fire in the winter snow.

A spark.

A rekindled life in a pressurized heap that smashed hydrogen and helium into unstable numbers. A new sun. Relighting, delighting, the Earth had yet to lose its light.

Everything revolves around something else, usually that object can be meaningless. This object, was a purpose. A new Salem, a new center of the universe. It was no flying witch, but a past member of an army that didn't exist for the right reasons. No matter what life Caboose would live, his first name remained Michael. An angel written in texts between languages and years. He would live them all, he would relish in every believer.

-

Samuel "Locus" Ortez, neighbor to Donald Doyle, and Michael J. Caboose, neighbor to Sarge, were destined to meet really. It was one key to many things that tied the two together. Caboose knew every detail of Doyle's home, uncomfortable when anything was moved on accident and even Doyle didn't realize. Locus had been to Sarge's home twice, he barely knew where the bathroom was. Both went to same flea market with their respective neighbor, only not to meet when Caboose stopped for a free strawberry honey stick.  
Caboose knew Carolina, Locus knew Kimball relatively well. Kimball and Carolina got married, Locus and Caboose sat in the same row.  
Caboose knew Smith, Locus knew Matthews and Bitters. They all started dating a year ago, they also threw large movie parties.

Locus met Caboose while the later sat on Doyle's front steps one bright early autumn afternoon. Caboose had watched Locus pass to his neighboring apartment, before getting up and walking towards him while wondering too many things.  
"You're really pink, well Doyle calls it red violet but it's just a fancy combination for pink. It's the shade Smith always is when you talk about his partners or Sarge is when you mention Doyle," Caboose's voice rung out. Part of him wanted to keep going but the sudden surprise on Locus' face made his ramble pause in reaction. 

"You blues all talk so much, no wonder Sarge is so temperamental," Locus responded, glowing with a low familiar green to the other. Both were surprised by his words, Locus not fully understanding what he had said and Caboose remembering.

"I've missed you!"  
Engulfing the other in a hug, Caboose dampened contradicting fabrics with fallen tears. Locus more confused, more concerned, yet more at home than he has in the years living. He never suspected such a concept to talk place.

Locus decided to sit with Caboose outside of the neighboring door, learning about who each other was.

Caboose had just been accepted for a musical, that which has been accepted for a Broadway level production. He was on his way to tell Doyle, local theater buff, the news. His favorite color was never the same as the previous day. He had a cat named Freckles. He had a step brother named Franklin, who got called Donut and had a boyfriend also named Frank. His best friend was named Church but never met him, he just knew. He had moved from Canada to go to college. His favorite store ever was the magic store(named Merlin's Magic Shop) that opened last month 30 minutes by tram from his complex. His full name was Michael J. Caboose. 

Locus worked for Buzzfeed and volunteered at the thrift store down the street when he had the ability. Locus was going to go inside to have a shower and tell Kimball why her brother shouldn't come to her party next week in a formal e-mail. He didn't have a favorite color, but couldn't help to answer sunflower yellow. He had a leopard gecko named Jaune. He had been informally adopted into Doyle's family. His best friend betrayed their sister and him years ago, Locus still hurt. He had lived in too many places to count them all with names anymore. He supposed his favorite store was the Lion Market since he got groceries there. His full name was Samuel Ortez, he didn't like being called Locus.


End file.
